So soon the taping was over and it was time to re-enter...the REAL WORLD. Back to darkness of city streets and of my own fears. The Sundays and Wednesday nights would pass, and with them, Lisa would pass by. My heart would race for a moment, then descend back into depression as the moment passed. Joyous church hymns like "Shine, Jesus Shine" thrust a cold, cruel dagger into my heart--how could so many people be so happy, how could Lisa sing with her arms outstretched to God--when one such as myself was so miserable? The one fortunate thing was that, when I volunteered to help stuff envelopes for church mailings with one group, there was a huge supply of candy and snacks for all. For a person still not gainfully employed, food remained scarce. I resorted to collecting cans to recycle for cash at various recycler machines outside supermarkets. Sometimes I would get lucky and have $5 to spend on an all-you-can-eat salad bar at Sizzler. These few opportunities sustained me. I even took a one-day job installing floor tiles in an empty shop--my
pay went straight to food. Every morning I would go to the church's Prayer Chapel to pray and interact with other Christians
with whom I had become friends. I would write out on prayer request cards that I was suffering from deep depression and really would appreciate their prayers. But it was really loneliness and isolation. I wanted affirmation. I wanted it from Lisa. I just wanted to know--that I was loved, that I was special, that I was
SOMEONE--as I had felt her tell me before in the song "Love Believer". All this overflowing charismatic spirit in the church was not enough--in fact, it was non-existent. I just wanted to know, and to feel. It would soon take another taping in the next few days to fill my soul with light--the light that came from Lisa.